


Guilty Hearts

by emmaliza



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Angst and Porn, Episode: s02e09 Countdown, Guilt, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Object Fellatio, Oral Fixation, Pining, Porn with Feelings, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:41:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28628214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaliza/pseuds/emmaliza
Summary: Blake loves Avon, and Avon loves a dead woman.
Relationships: Kerr Avon/Roj Blake, background Avon/Anna
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	Guilty Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> To anyone afraid I was dead: don't worry, I'm still here, I just spent a month and a bit working on something which cannot be published _quite_ yet. Still, it's (mostly) finished now, meaning I am free to write other things!

Guilt is a mess of an emotion. Blake returns to his rooms tired; less drained than Avon must feel, certainly, but still, tired.

He never knew Avon to be the sort of man to fall in love. He sure doesn’t sell himself as a romantic. Still, Blake can’t help but think he should have seen this coming. He should have known Avon’s icy disposition was covering up a broken heart. He wonders why he never wanted to contemplate the idea.

He sighs as he sits on his bed, unfastening the clasp of his heavy leather tunic. He doesn’t usually feel guilty when his thoughts turn to Avon when he’s alone, but this time he does. Avon is in mourning, he doesn’t need to be the target of Blake’s pointless infatuation.

It’s not like Blake thinks anything could come of his feelings. He has long since resolved not to get involved in any romantic relationships, because nobody needs that target on their heads. Moreover, Avon tolerates him at best, despises him at worst. Blake has no reason to believe he would ever have a chance, even without the ghost of Anna Grant complicating the equation.

Usually, Blake can handle it, indulge his fantasies in private and not let it affect him elsewhere ( _like it didn’t affect you today?_ ), but now Avon’s grief is like a blanket lain on top of him, suffocating him.

He did try to get Avon to open up and talk to him, to share his sadness and by unburdened of it, but it's not in Avon's nature to share his feelings with anyone, least of all him. Perhaps he could try to push the matter, but it would be counterproductive. Avon would be furious with his intrusion, as he always is. He would accuse Blake of something awful, gathering information to be used against him later, because Avon always thinks he has ulterior motives. He would throw Blake against the wall and spit at him for daring—

Blake groans loudly, rubbing his tired eyes with one hand. No, he's not going to let his thoughts run away with him this time. Not now.

Maybe he needs sleep. He never sleeps enough, but hopefully he will feel better in the morning. He lies down on his side, shifting restlessly against the bed. He doubts Avon will sleep at all tonight; his insomnia is bad enough at the worst of times, without the memory of past heartbreak filling his mind. Blake doesn't want to imagine Avon in pain. He knows Avon wouldn’t believe him if he said it aloud, but he’s never meant to hurt him. He’s never been afraid to do what he has to but he is not, by nature, cruel. Not yet anyway.

He wonders if Avon knows he stayed on that planet when they were all about to be slaughtered. He doubts it. If Avon knew he would have confronted Blake over it, looking for some reason to think the worst of him yet again. Blake rolls half onto his front, burying his head in the pillows. What he did today was stupid, he knows that. It was a miracle they weren’t all killed. Would he really have let himself die like that, abandon the quest for Star One and against the Federation, for Avon, one man who doesn’t even believe in his cause?

(Yes, absolutely.)

Blake moans softly, unable to fight the thoughts that go rushing through his head as he rubs, not entirely intentionally, himself up against the mattress. He doesn’t want Avon to know, and them both to have to deal with another messy consequence of this day. But selfishly, he also does. He wants Avon to find him like this, to scream at him for doing something so reckless, to understand just how much Blake would risk for him—

_I need to stop this,_ Blake thinks as he grinds into the sheets, his cock swelling at the thought of Avon’s dark eyes and pale skin piqued with anger. Avon is still grieving. But Blake can’t help himself. He still wants him. He wants to be in Avon’s bed and in his heart, to make him feel better, to offer himself up as proof that someone in the galaxy does still love him, no matter how poorly he may do so.

Blake lifts his hips into the air, fumbling for his fly as he squeezes himself through the thick cotton. He feels crude and bestial for it, but perhaps this is for the best, to clear his love and his lust from his mind, if only for a little while. By the time he has a hand wrapped around his heavy cock, stroking himself with greed and haste, the other is already up near his mouth, two fingers rubbing against his tongue.

Oh, he knows what he wants right now. What would it be like, he wonders, to service Avon that way? Would he sneer and mock the famous noble rebel Roj Blake for getting on his knees like a ten credit slut? Would he grab Blake by the curls and fuck his face, use him purely for his own pleasure? Would he cry, overwhelmed by his sadness and letting a man he doesn’t even like fuck him through it?

Blake pushes his fingers down his throat until he gags, but it’s not enough, it’s not going to be enough. Wincing with guilt he removes them and goes fumbling for his bedside drawer. He doesn’t usually bother with this sort of thing, he doesn’t normally give himself long enough, but right now he needs it.

The toy is just long and thick enough, sliding between his lips like it belongs there. Blake moans, the sound muffled by black silicone (he swears he didn’t choose the colour on purpose). It doesn’t taste like Avon’s cock would, no matter how many times Vila snarks that he is more computer than man, but it will do. Blake balances it on the pillow, swallowing it deeper and deeper until he’s choking on it, while his now-freed hand runs fitfully up and down his body, tweaking his nipples and squeezing his own buttocks through his clothing. Shame isn't an emotion that comes easily to him, but it comes now, while he fondles and touches himself to the thought of a man buried deep in the thought of a woman he's never met, leaving bruises on his own skin in a pitiful attempt to feel like Avon might do that instead. He feels needy, desperate. It's so unlike the image half the galaxy has of him, the impervious rebel leader who can lead them all to victory. Nobody brings out the human in him like Avon can.

Pre-come drips across his calloused knuckles as he strokes himself with fury, with himself and with the world, at the Federation for tearing Avon's love away from him, for making it so Blake can't even think about fucking him without feeling the mass of the whole galaxy crushing him into a white dwarf, saddling him with what is best for every single person he meets, because god knows no-one else is going to—

He forces the toy as deep inside his throat as it will go, imagining Avon pulling him close, facefucking him as if he has no other purpose. He gags himself until he's almost sick, and as he chokes semen spurts forth from him, staining his clothes. As he rides out his orgasm he is thrusting his arse in the air, pretending he has someone to offer it to.

Blake keeps sucking on the dildo as he comes down from his high, not willing to face reality just yet. But, as he swipes his tongue across the head of what's occupying his mouth, he can't taste Avon's come, making it all seem warm and natural and real, all he gets is plastic and guilt. He collapses onto his sheets with a sigh, the lack of oxygen finally getting to him.

Avon has it in him to love another, Blake knows that now. But he doesn't love him. Blake will have to live with that for the rest of his life, however long it may be.


End file.
